Promise
by OutspokenSilence
Summary: Harry Mason never expected that he would have to save the life of another complete stranger.. James Sunderland/Harry Mason
1. Saviour

I thought I'd try my hand at this pairing, as quite a few people like it. I fear I am becoming a fan myself, they seem pretty well suited. =]

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It had never crossed his mind that Harry Mason would end up saving someone's life. Again. The events of Silent Hill were still fresh in his mind, the young girl hanging onto his hand was a constant reminder of the pain and suffering. However, to him, she was worth all of it. The beautiful dark haired girl who had been reborn, his darling daughter,Heather.

Their walks down to the mall had become routine. An eight year old could never have enough toys, enough dolls, enough of anything. Harry liked to spoil her, she was the only thing he had in this world and she was such a good little girl. This trip was different however. Stopping at the usual traffic lights, waiting for the usual amount of time. A bag was dropped next to his feet. His reflexes made him glance down, to see it was a large,black bag. Filled to the brim. The unusual thing happened after that.

The red light was still flashing and Heather's grip on his hand was tight. A car was speeding down the road, no one would be stupid enough to chance it. Except the owner of that bag. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. A man broke through the crowd, stepping right infront of the car. The driver had no time to stop, they were travelling too fast. Harry's hand slipped from his daughter's grasp and he moved forward, the people parting around him. Hand met material and he pulled, slamming the man into the traffic light pole. Everything was moving normally once more, but all eyes were on him and this stranger.

He was younger than Harry. Sandy blonde hair, deathly pale skin, and dark rings around his eyes. Had this been a suicide attempt? This man didn't look like he was going to talk just yet, and the brunet released his grip on him. Being the good girl she was, Heather had stayed put, merely staring up at her father with eyes like saucers. The crowd was disappearing now, either crossing the road or merely walking away. Had he really just done that? Maybe the car just hadn't been travelling that fast..

" Are you.. are you alright?" he questioned, the man looked even paler than before, if that was possible. There was something about him, something that Harry couldn't place but, this man most definately wasn't right. His eyes were darting everywhere, and not once did he look at the guy who had managed to drag him out the way of the oncoming traffic. There was a sheen of sweat on his skin, visible to Harry who was just a few inches away. Something had driven this man to try and kill himself, that was for sure.

There was a quiet, rasping reply from the man. Almost inaudible above the quiet rumble of the distant traffic. It sounded like a name. Mary? Maria? Harry wasn't sure but this man wasn't thinking straight. Placing a gentle hand on his back, he levered the blond away from the pole, pushing him gently away from the road. It wasn't a struggle at all, the man's body was almost limp and he didn't resist.

"What's your name? Where do you live?" Harry asked calmly, gesturing for Heather to pick up this guy's bag with his free hand. Being the strong girl she was, the raven-haired child lifted it with almost no trouble, following her father with quiet steps. She never complained and Harry was glad of that. Heather had never been a difficult child, always willing to help out, and was mature beyond her years. Without her, Harry would probably be in this man's situation right now.

They were a few metres down the street before the blond gave his answer. His name was James. That was the only answer he was going to get it seemed, as the blond suddenly stopped, bringing a hand up to his eyes. His body shook, and Harry's hand left his back. It was odd to see a grown man cry, even if you were one yourself. Harry's more feminine side wanted to fuss over him, talk to him about his problems, but this near stranger was bigger than him. The older male had never been especially strong,either emotionally or physically.

His hand moved to Heather's shoulder, stopping her from taking another step. It didn't need to be explained to her, she just nodded slightly, and a look of sadness passed through her dark eyes. How she could feel so sorry for a stranger was an admirable quality, and Harry knew his daughter would grow up to be a lovely young woman. A considerate, charming and strong woman. Just like his wife..

After a few minutes, the blond's violent shaking had stopped and he was just stood, staring down the street. Harry's brow furrowed as he attempted to reach out for him, his fingers grasping at midair as the other sprinted was a flash of green as he rounded a corner, and then nothing. A small, clammy hand reached for Harry's own and he glanced down at his daughter. She was crying, a trail of liquid running down to her top lip. His features softened as he crouched down to her height, wiping away the sticky liquid with his thumb. "It's alright, sweetheart, I'll make sure he doesn't get hurt.". Promises he made to his daughter were never broken.

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Please review^^

OS


	2. Memories

Thank you to the people who reviewed, you drove me to want to finish this chapter in half the time. =]

I apologise if it isn't as fantastic as it could have been, as I'm saving the more exciting stuff for the next chapter. ( No, not sex. haha.)

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He left her in a shop, telling her to stay put. If he set off now, he could catch up with James and make sure he was safe. Heather's hand clung onto his for a few seconds, before returning to her side. Right now, she knew that the strange man her father had saved was important, and was willing to stay put if it helped. Harry was just glad for such a considerate child, and that he had a second chance at parenthood.

Inhaling deeply, he exited the shop. He didn't have much to go by, but the blond couldn't have gotten far. The street lead to a dead end, and was surrounded by large, private buildings. Even if the younger male was an olympic runner, which he blatantly wasn't, anyone could tell that from his build, he couldn't get any further than the end of the winding street. No need to run then.

Pacing quickly down the street, avoiding any of the cars moving down the narrow street, Harry glanced around for the blond. There were only a few people out, going home after a days shopping, or heading off to the mall. Once he moved closer to the dead end however, a familiar feeling ran through his body. He was alone, completely alone. James was nowhere to be seen, even all those people seemed to have disappeared suddenly.

A man in a suit. A second glance and he was gone. Kaufmann? Impossible. His mind was placing tricks on him again, the way it often did. The dark-haired child who had become him daughter was usually there to give comforting words or a hug, which made all his worries drain away. But now, now he couldn't stop the memories flooding back. A surge of adrenaline surged through his body and he ran, pelting down the remainder of the road.

It was deathly quiet, only his high-speed footfalls echoing off the surrounding buildings. Was this all in his head? He only managed a few more steps before something grabbed onto his arm, making him recoil and fall backwards onto the rough ground. He squirmed slightly where he sat, before opening his dark eyes. A shape looming over him, a hand clinging onto the sleeve of his coat, pulling him up. No weapon, empty streets, his daughter left if he died here, after surviving the horrors of that dreadful town?

A quiet 'I'm sorry.' drained all his fears away. His gaze moved up to meet that of the very man he had been following, and he let out a thankful sigh. Perhaps the brunet just scared too easily, those resurfacing memories made him constantly on edge. They stood silently for a few moments, before his sleeve was released from the younger man's grip. There was an awkward moment as the two just stared at one another, waiting for the other to move. It was James who did so first. His gaze moved to the floor and he turned, moving to walk back down the street. This time, there was no sign of him getting reading to run, the blond just walked steadily infront of him.

Following the other down the abandoned street sent shivers down his spine. This was all too familiar. Any moment now, James was going to disappear round a corner, and Harry would suddenly lose sight of him. Even though their friendship only went as far as one knowing the other's name, the older male had become increasingly protective of those around him after that 'incident'. Once part of him wanted to speed up and walk alongside the other, make sure that he wouldn't leave his side. That was ridiculous. It wasn't as though this man was a child, neither physically nor mentally.

In a few minutes, they reached the other end of the street, and the people seemingly appeared around them. Harry's body felt lighter as he let out a quiet sigh. It was times like this when Heather would run up to him, offering him sweets or a toy to play with, anything to stop 'daddy' feeling so bad. Her offers often caused a smile to spread across his lips, and his worries would melt away for a while. That was until she would glance up at him, with eyes so much like Cheryl. Then the pain would start again, and he would leave her to play downstairs by herself. The loss of his daughter was something he could never forgive himself for, even though part of him knew there would have been no way to stop it.

It seemed that James had noticed the look on Harry's face as they stopped outside the shop, as his brows furrowed. The older man just shook his head in response, before pushing gently at the glass door of the store. It didn't open immediately. Unfamiliar places, doors sticking or locking. Everything reminded him of that dreadful place, the place where he was supposed to have been taking a vacation with his daughter..His beautiful daughter..

The door was opened for him from the other side, slowly but surely. His gaze met his small, raven-haired daughter, who was still clutching James' bag with an unbreakable grip. Before he could utter a word, he felt himself get gently pushed out of the way by a warm hand as the blond stranger moved to get his bag. It was handed to him carefully, as if it was filled with precious jewels or something equally fragile. That familiar, warm, childish grin was back on Heather's round features as she stared up at the pale and dishevelled man. This was a relief to Harry, at least she wasn't as scared as he felt.

He found himself flinching as a tiny hand grabbed his. James had moved from the doorway, staring down at the bag he gripped so tightly. It was obvious his daughter had felt his adverse reaction, as her hand left his in a hurry. When he reached back for it, she had scurried away, making her way to their acquaintance's side. Harry hadn't meant to react that way, his mind had been elsewhere. He, shamefully, had thought of Cheryl. It was hard sometimes, trying to forget all those things he had lost. His wife, Lisa and then Cheryl. The three people he had been willing to sacrifice himself for.

"Daddy?"

The voice brought his back to reality. His daughter was leading James down the street, hanging onto the sleeve of his off-green jacket. Where was she taking him? She couldn't really be considering taking him back to apartment, they had no room, and they still had no idea of what this man was capable of. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Heather was a child, children just wanted everything to be happy and perfect. Life never was. Silent Hill had proven that to Harry all those years ago.

" Cheryl..we can't.."

His hand moved slowly to his mouth as Heather's brow furrowed. A slip of the tongue, that was two sets of eyes on him, Harry just wanted to crawl inside himself and will those words to return to his mouth. When he glanced over at the younger male however, he saw a look of sympathy in his eyes. A second and it was gone. It was almost as if this almost stranger knew exactly what he was thinking. As if he too had found himself in the same situation. A stupid thought, Harry was just looking for some relief from his daughter's troubled gaze.

So many years and that name still haunted him. Heather, his daughter's name was Heather, and it always would be. The secrets of her birth would remain secrets until he felt she was old enough. But, even know, he was sure she would be able to take it. With a quiet sigh, he followed his two companions down the street, feeling more alone than ever.

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Oh dear, silly Harry.

OS


	3. Mary

Thank you to my reviewers.=]

-x-Bashli-x- : I hope this story will turn out to your liking. Thanks for reviewing fellow Harry/James fan! =]

Randman: I'm really sorry about my silly mistakes! I sent it to two different people and neither of them said anything was wrong with it.-sigh- However, I did read through this chapter and any mistakes can be blamed on my bad reading skills. Anyway, enough apologising, thank you very much for your review, it was helpful. ^^

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It seemed that he was the only one confused about this whole ordeal. His daughter, sweet and charming as always had taken James' bag as soon as they had entered the apartment, leaving the man to 'explore'. Not that it took him long, their home wasn't exactly a large place. Slouching in his chair in the center of the living room, Harry had watched James pace slowly around, as if this was an everyday occurance,moving in with a stranger and his daughter.

The awkward silence was broken by Heather, who, after setting James's bag down carefully on the carpet, returned to his side. " You look tired." she stated, tilting her head back to look into the face of their new lodger. Something inside Harry wanted to dive forward, and pull his daughter away from this man,forcing him out the door. None of this felt right. How could someone who had been suicidal an hour earlier be so placid and friendly? Perhaps it was a bad idea to question things like that. At least they weren't dealing with some sort of psychopath.

James didn't deny it, and let himself get pushed gently to Harry's room by the young girl's tiny hands. The bedroom door shut behind him, leaving Heather stood in the middle of the living room alone, an odd look on her face. It was the same look she got when her father was upset, a mix of sadness and confusion. After watching her stand there for a few moments, Harry beckoned her over with a warm smile. Usually a hug from him made that look disappear.

As they sat on the chair together, Heather's head resting lightly on his chest, the shower started up in the spare room. Absent-mindedly, the brunet's gaze moved in the direction of the noise, before falling on the large black bag which the other man had brought with him. He knew it was wrong, but all he wanted to do was have a look inside. Just a little look, to find something which would give a clue as to who this strange man was. His daughter must have felt him shift in the seat, as her head lifted away from his chest and she got off his lap.

He stood up a moment later, before pausing to check the water was still running. Finding it was, he crouched next to the huge piece of luggage. As his fingers traced along the zip, attempting to find an opening, Heather moved into his line of vision. She didn't look happy, the exact opposite, she looked very angry. It was the look Harry expected when he joked about the boys at her school, or times when he did something intentionally stupid.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he questioned, finding a hole in the zip. With a sharp tug, the bag opened with a light ripping noise. There was no visible damage,luckily for him. He slipped his hand into the bag, before glancing up at his daughter when she failed to reply straight away. Of course he knew exactly why she was looking at him that way, but he couldn't have some sort of weirdo living in his house..

"Daddy, that isn't yours." was Heather's quiet reply as she remained standing on the other side of the bag. Harry grasped something at the bottom of the bag, clothes, normal enough, but something else too. A large leather bound box. He pulled it out from the bag with a quiet grunt, trying to avoid ripping the material of bag any further. Setting it down on the floor, he sat down gently next to it.

" I know, honey, but I just have to check something.". That was exactly what he was doing, checking. Checking to see whether he and his daughter could sleep soundly with this man in their apartment. Maybe this box would be the thing which decided whether this James guy was staying or not. An odd feeling welled up inside him. Partly fear of what he could find but also a hint of excitement. To find it opened so easily was a shock, but that feeling soon died down. His attention was completely drawn to the objects stored inside.

The first thing he saw were photographs, some of them very worn and damaged. Wedding photographs, pictures of James and his wife. Was this Maria? Mary? It didn't matter. Harry kept pulling out picture after picture before stopping suddenly. His hand moved down to the floor, still gripping onto a picture of James with torn edges, and his brow furrowed. He felt Heather sit next to him, her arms wrapping around his right arm, as his left hand reached back into the box.

Hair. Brown hair, a light chestnut shade. A black hair grip was still attached to one end. He felt uneasy touching it, so his hand drifted to the other side of the box, only to be met with something much colder than the other contents of this mysterious case. Even though his body told him what it was straight away, he just had to remove it to prove to himself that this was really happening. As he lifted out the sharp object, it glinted in the sunlight entering through the window.

"What on earth?" he mumbled, pulling his other arm from Heather's grip so he could hold the knife firmly. There were flecks of dried blood splattered across the metal and hilt, it must have been used pretty recently. Harry inhaled deeply, setting the knife back down in the box, before doing the same with the photographs. His whole body shook slightly as he pushed down the lid of the case. Heather slumped against him and the water stopped running.

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Oh dear.

OS


	4. The past

This must be the shortest, most 'fail-ish' chapter ever. I'm so sorry, I've had no time. Argh!

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The tension in the room was building as the two men stared at each other. Harry's arm had moved to shield his daughter from the man in the doorway, ready to pull her out the way if anything happened. Although, he had no idea how fast the other could move. Or if the other was carrying a weapon. Other than the bloody knife in the bag of course. It was James who broke the silence, his voice cracking slightly as he attempted to retain his composure.

"You never told me your names."

Harry didn't answer the question. That was such an odd thing to ask, knowing that someone had been through your bag. Your bag which contained a knife and your wife's hair. Surely he would be angry, or worried that Harry would call the police. However, if he truely was as insane as Harry thought, then who knew what the blond was thinking right now?

"James, what is all of this?" Harry questioned, talking the way he did when Heather had messed up the room, or brought something weird back from school. He knew he sounded patronising, but how else was he meant to talk to this guy?

He frowned deeply as his question wasn't answered and James just stepped closer. His grip on his daughter's shoulder tightened slightly as he tilted his head to stare into the blond's face. From this angle, it was almost as if the younger male looked scared. That couldn't be the case. Unless the contents of that open bag were bringing back something...

"Who does the knife belong to,James?" the older male asked more calmly, tapping Heather lightly on the shoulder to let her know it was least, he assumed it new 'family member' was always a little too calm.

The blond looked a little distressed as he searched for the answer, gripping onto the bottom of his jacket with trembling fingers. His mouth opened once, twice, and on the third attempt a single name spilled out. "Angela." After that, another awkward silence filled the room before James continued. It was almost as if he couldn't halt his speech and everything was just rushing out.A flood of memories.

"I met her a few months ago, in this town a little way from here. She carried this knife with her everywhere, that isn't her blood, I promise! I helped her out but she hated me, they all hated me. I was only there to find my wife, Mary, but instead I was dragged into some sort of horrible nightmare. I lost everything, everything important to me.. Everything that meant anything to me..". With those final words, his gaze dropped to the floor and he was silent.

When Harry finally turned back to look at the other, he had slipped back into the room, the lock clicking. His words were still running through the older man's head, repeating over and over. A town a little way from here, a horrible nightmare, losing everything. Silent Hill. That must have been it. No wonder the other was so...odd. It wasn't that long ago that Harry's life had felt exactly the same way. Meaningless. The only thing that had kept him going was his beautiful daughter. What did James have to keep him sane?

" James. I.. I believe you." Harry stated, standing to face the other. It was less intimidating this way, the other man was pretty tall. Was it right to talk about his own visit to the town while his 'new' daughter was only a few centimetres away? Of course it wasn't, but the odd look on James' face drove him to add to his statement. It was only right that he knew. " I know what..Silent Hill does to you..."

He heard Heather give a quiet whine from next to him. She sounded pained but, what was wrong? Before he could turn to find out, his daughter scurried past him into her bedroom and shut the door quickly behind her. After that, there was silence. Maybe saying the name of the town had worried must have been it. Wait, she didn't know about it, did she? Had he accidently mentioned something about her past? James' monotone voice broke through his thoughts.

"I need to sleep."

Harry stared at the other, then down at the bag. He crouched, picking up the heavy container with both hands before staggering to his feet. James took it off him with a grunt of appreciation, carrying it rather easily with his left hand. The other moved to the door and he disappeared back into his new room, leaving Harry alone in the silent room.

It was a few hours before the whispering started.

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Harry was always too understanding.

OS


	5. Maria

Sorry for the long time between updates, Im in the middle of a session of exams.

Also, there are probably a lot of spelling mistakes here. I did check through but, I always manage to miss some out.  


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At first he tried to ignore it. It must have been people outside, travelling home from a party of some sort, or even those noisy neighbours in the apartment opposite. He didn't react until a dull thud sounded from their lodger's room, followed by more hushed whispers and profanities spoken in a guttural manner. With small, child-like steps, Harry made his way to the door. Resting his hand gently on the door handle, he tugged, letting the wooden door open with the smallest of creaks.

James was at the far side of the room, his hands tugging roughly at his hair as he took long steps across Harry's line of vision. His movement was seemingly hindered by something, and the blond staggered backwards before hissing something under his breath. It was with the his daughter's safety in mind that Harry crawled into the room, attempting to stay out of the moonlight which was illuminating the other side of the room. His breath hitched in his throat as the door shut and locked behind him, curling up as tight as he possibly could. Never, in his lifetime, would he have thought he would have to sneak around his own home like some sort of intruder.

A glass smashed on the wall next to him, knocking him roughly from his thoughts. His teeth gritted as he attempted to stay silent, shards of glass trickling onto the back of his hand. Shifting his weight slightly, he leant forward, attempting to get a glimpse at his assailant. James couldn't have thrown it that far, could he? Not now anyway, the blond was seated in a familiar position to his own, his features lit by the ghostly lightly emanating from the open window. A shadow passed across the arc of light, the shadow of a third person. That was impossible. No one else could possibly be there, and Heather was safely tucked up in bed last time he had checked.

Avoiding the pieces of glass on the floor, Harry pulled himself along the carpet in a slithering motion. Not unlike those creatures, those hellish monsters which had made his life a misery years before. Shuddering at the thought, he found himself sat on the other side of the bed, another one-sided argument going on just over his head. Dare he lift his head to look? As the vase smashed a metre or so above him, his plan shattered along with was no way he was going to put his safety or even James' on the line. Whatever it was up there, it certainly wasn't happy.

The shadow moved past once more as the bed behind him sank slightly, James' arm dangling an inch or so away. Did that mean that the argument had ended? He waited a few anxious seconds, before attempting to crawl back out the room, his back narrowly missing hitting James' outstretched fingers. In a minute or so, he could be out in the main room, calling the police if need be. He just had to reach the door without James or that..thing..noticing his movements. Now they weren't arguing, any noise could mean he was caught. Without realising, Harry found himself holding his breath, the same way he had done when a creature passed by, or when his radio had started to ring.

"What are you doing?"

Before he could crawl another inch, his gaze met James' booted foot merely centimetres infront of him. The brunet hardly dare look up, not wanting to see the expression on the younger man's face. Sneaking around in someone else's room, whether the house belonged to him or not, was definately a breach of seemed that the other gave up when he didn't react, and with a sigh, the blond moved away.

"What did you see? Please, I have to know.."

The blond had returned the window, his shadow stretching across the floor, stopping where he had been stood moments earlier. Harry frowned as he got to his feet, his hands falling to his sides as he searched for the answer. Just what had he seen? He had been hoping that James could explain it. If he hadn't known better, the older male would have assumed it was a ghost, a spirit from one of Heather's more adventurous bedtime stories. Ghosts didn't exist, that was the one thing that the brunet refused to believe in, even after his time in the abandoned town.

" Did you see her? Please.."

Harry's body tensed at how terrified the other sounded, the shake in his voice was becoming steadly more obvious every time a question was ? That thing smashing with vases was a woman? From the brunet's point of view, it had just being a warping shadow, an image in the corner of his eye. It seemed that to James, that form was definately something more.

"James. Was that Maria?"

Silence. A few paces taken across the room,the wall inspected with tired eyes. It was then that Harry knew he had got it in one,that had to be it. That 'woman' was the wife that James had lost, or an incarnation of her at least. This made next to no sense, but he drove on, no longer feeling awkward stood in the centre of the room.

"How did she die, James?"

When the other glanced across at him with woeful eyes, it seemed that everything around him froze. He could no longer hear the clock ticking, or feel the steady beat of his heart. The truth was finally out.

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Oh dear.


	6. Repressing Emotion

I'm sorry about not updating sooner, just a lot of..stuff's been happening.

I apologise for any typing errors or spelling mistakes, I don't have spellchecker/don't know how to spell some of the words. ( Forgive me for being dumb, haha.) Enjoy!  


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The man stood a few meters away from him was a murderer. The way he couldn't meet Harry's gaze told him everything, and the brunette just wished he could turn back time. Why? Selfishly, he wished that he hadn't been the one to save this man from his death. He wished that he and Heather had gone shopping on a different day and that someone else would now be looking after the blonde. This psychopath had been walking alongside his daughter, and Harry had been none the wiser. It made a strange feeling rise up inside him, a mix of slightly disgust and confusion. If James had killed before, what was to stop him doing so again?

Neither of them spoke for a minute or so, with James just pacing to the bed and sitting down. With awkward steps, Harry forced himself to follow the blond and joined him on the rather rickety bed. The room was silent, all the previous chaos forgotten as the two silently willed the other to speak. What was there to say? Each knew exactly what the other was thinking, yet, Harry needed to know more. Silent Hill changed people, no matter how strong they appeared on the outside. Cybil had proven that, having quit the police force and become a recluse upon leaving the ghost town. The brunet had remained in contact with her briefly, with a series of letters, but soon the writing had stopped. No one the police force had any information on her whereabouts, and Harry had thought the worst. Was he the only one whose life had reverted back to something that could be classed as normal?

Reflecting upon it all brought back horrific, yet saddening, memories which Harry tried to force back. He, too, was a killer in a way. In a panic, he had let Lisa die. Poor, vulnerable Lisa. She had placed her life in his hands and he had failed her. The thought of her pain stricken face chilled him to the bone, it was the same expression which haunted his dreams. The nurse shouldn't have had to suffer that way, and Harry couldn't help but feel that it was all his fault. A quiet sigh left his lips before he turned back to the younger male. Those thoughts could be forgotten for now, none of that could be reversed. However, James could easily been thrown back out onto the streets.

As Harry opened his mouth to speak, something heavy fell against his chest. James' head. The brunet was at a loss of what to do, his hands raised in an attempt to push the other way. It seemed like the blond was persistant to stay put, his large hands moving to grab onto the sleeves of Harry's shirt.

"James.." Harry's voice sounded rather weak, but it still had a kind tone to it. He knew, right at the back of his mind, that James was in great inner turmoil about his actions. The dead of his wife had obviously been a crippling blow, even if the blond had been the one to take her life. In an attempt to comfort the man infront of him, Harry placed a hand on his back and pulled him closer. The brunet knew he had always been too trusting, but this felt different. He really felt like there was some sort of bond between the two of them, no matter how weak.

"Please don't hate me, I haven't done anything wrong, please.." . James' speech was muffled against the material of the brunet's shirt, yet his words hit hard. Did Harry hate him? No, the only people deserving of hate were the inhabitants of Silent Hill, the ones who had burnt that little girl. It was odd, they were both grown men and yet it didn't feel strange to be this close. To him, the blond seemed like a child, a scared and defenseless child. A child that needed protecting from himself. It was impossible to hate someone who seemed to be at a loss with life.

His reply came naturally, one which he had often had to use with Heather after their little arguments. "I don't hate you, I promise." he stated, a hint of a smile gracing his features as he held the other close. When the other started to shake in his grasp, the smile faded away. There was something incredibly heartbreaking about seeing or hearing a grown man cry, a feeling that differed from seeing a child shed tears. It was because he knew how much pain it took to force tears from a being who was always percieved as strong and unbreakable. Part of him wanted to break away from the other and leave him be, but his years as a father forced him to stay. He knew that company always subdued the pain, if only for a little while.

Although it wasn't comfortable, Harry remained with the other until the blond's body went limp in his arms. He had cried himself to sleep, the convulsions suddenly stopping as James slipped into unconciousness. Even then, the older man did not move, waiting a few more minutes until he knew the other would not stir when he shifted. There was something oddly calmly about holding the other in his arms, listening to the sound of his quiet breaths.

The door creaked open just as Harry found his own eyes slipping shut. A tiny figure was stood in the doorway, clutching onto a large pink stuffed rabbit. As Harry turned to meet her gaze, he gave a warm smile. That rabbit, Robbie, was one of the first presents he had ever bought Heather. Noticing the curious look on his daughter's sleepy face, he removed one hand from James' shoulder and pressed it gently to his lips. "He's just sleeping, sweetie, wait a minute." he whispered, careful not to raise his voice too close to the blond's ear.

With a few gentle movements, Harry managed to shift James into a lying position on the bed. He glanced down at the man's sleeping figure before turning and sliding himself off the bed. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of the minature clock standing on the bedside table. It was late, very late. Just how long had they been sat like that? This time had passed by so quickly, how long had Heather been awake? Shaking the fuzzy tired feeling from his head, the brunet paced across the room to meet his daughter.

"Daddy? Why aren't you asleep?" she questioned, a tiny fist moving to rub at sleepy eyes. Harry just let out a quiet chuckle in reply, crouching to match the girl in height. His hand took hers away from her eyes and he squeezed it gently. The girl seemed a little confused by his gesture, but gave a weak smile anyway. She had learned not to question her father's habits or some of his rather strange actions. To her, he was the best father anyone could wish for and more.

Harry gave an equal smile before standing once more. His hands remained linked with Heather's as he lead her out the door and back into the main room. " C'mon, lets get you back to bed." he said quietly, taking one last glance at the door of James' room. Somehow, even if James had bloodstained hands, there was something about him that Harry found truly trustworthy.

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Ooh, another promise. ^___~


	7. Cemetery

Oh gosh, I apologise for the HUGE wait between chapters (and that this one really does suck.). Just to make up for it, the next chapter is already being worked on, then I'll move back to Endless Dream for a little bit.

Once again, I am sorry.

* * *

The school run that day was different to say the least. Harry and his daughter had woken a little later than usual due to the ruckus the night before, yet their morning routines had run swiftly. The little girl was dressed and ready in minutes, batting her father's hand away as he tried to fix her tie. It wasn't an aggressive movement, and Harry understood. His daughter really was starting to grow up. He had been about to fetch Heather's school bag for her when the door to their lodger's room opened rather slowly, and the blond came into view. That was when Heather had started tugging sharply on her father's sleeve.

It took only a minute or so for the little girl's job to be done. She persuaded her father to let James come along with her girlish wiles and irresistable little grin. How could Harry say no? He had just smiled and ruffled her hair, allowing her to invite the blond along. It was obvious that his tiny daughter was going to become a very charming young woman, after she had passed through the long, painful years of adolescence, of course.

The three of them had set off a little while later, after Heather had managed to tie her shoes almost perfectly. The little girl had taken both of their hands, leading the two grown men along. Harry had been greatly amused by this and ended up chuckling at his daughter's determined expression. The school was only around the corner, yet she wanted to show just how grown-up she was by leading them there, instead of the other way around. It was surprising how fast the girl was maturing, and the mere thought of her getting old enough to live alone caused a strange feeling to well up in Harry's stomach. He stopped smiling soon after that, only flashing a rather goofy grin when Heather left them to travel into the school grounds.

Checking to see whether the blond was still following, Harry continued to walk down the street. The heavy footfalls which moved to pad alongside his directed his attention to James. There was no need to particularly look where he was going, he had travelled this route so many times that it was firmly etched into his memory.

"Harry, where are we going?"

The man found that he couldn't help but give a slight smile. The blond had such an innocence surrounding him, almost rivaling that of Heather's. However, part of Harry wanted to lose his trust in this man, as the previous night's revelations had hit hard. James, the man walking right next to him, was a murderer. It was difficult to be afraid of someone who didn't seem 'all there' though. One thing did spring to mind a split second later, he had never told the man his name.

"How do you-?"

"I saw it on your notebook. Harry Mason." James replied simply as the continued to walk. No matter how long Harry stared at him, the other man would not meet his gaze. He was probably embarassed from what had happened hours before, and the brunet understood exactly. It was not every day that a grown man fell asleep so soundly in another man's arms after being scared witless by shadows.

The two men travelled the remainder of the journey in silence, neither of them showing the intention of speaking. There wasn't much to say, yet something still seemed amiss as Harry turned the corner. They had reached their destination quicker than expected, and a long sigh left the brunet's lips. The cemetery, the final resting place of his late wife. He would visit her grave every week or so, often with Heather in tow. However, this was the second time he had walked here in four days. Now that his daughter was changing so rapidly, Harry just needed to see something which would always stay the same. His wife would never be coming back.

His pace quickened once they reached the right row of graves, this route came as second nature to him. A voice broke his concentration after a few seconds, and he turned to face the voice. James was already ahead of him, standing by the exact spot that the brunet had been heading for. The blond gave a weak smile as he gestured to the large slab of marble he was positioned next to. Before Harry had a chance to react, the other man repeated himself.

"This is your wife's grave, isn't it?"

It was rather obvious that the other did not want or need an answer. The name was plainly chiselled across the stone, along with the dates and the message he had chosen for her. So, as it was probably expected, Harry just paced over and knelt by the slightly raised mound of earth. His beautiful wife's body was slowly rotting into nothingness below the ground, yet it sometimes felt like she was still with him, watching over him and their daughter. Or at least, _his_ daughter. Helen had never got to meet her 'new' child, as the illness had taken her before Cheryl had even left this world. The mere thought of it was a little too much, and Harry's hand moved up to rub angrily at his eyes. So many years had passed, but visiting her grave still had exactly the same effect.

He did not react when he felt James kneel next to him, their sides practically brushing as the blond moved to stroke the earth. There was a rather odd expression on his face, and Harry wasn't quite sure how to interpret it. It was only when James' features contorted into a wistful smile that he was sure he understood just what was running through the other's mind. The other man had lost his wife too, but for very different reasons.

"I know you think I'm crazy, but my wife was sick too." the blond told Harry, his fingers running across the soil infront of him. That absent smile still coated his features as he continued to speak, and the brunet found himself transfixed. " The doctors said she only had weeks, days, to live. I panicked, because I'm a selfish human being. My parents always said that was one my faults, that I should have taken Mary to a home where she could have been looked after. But no, I wanted to do it myself, because she was mine. I wanted to rid her from her pain and...I did it in the worst way possible. There hasn't been one day when I haven't hated myself for what I have done.. I just think that, sometimes, it is better to move on, no matter how painful it may be for you.."

Harry had listened to every single word which had flowed from the younger man's mouth. Perhaps there was a little bit of innocence there, along with his selfish desire to rid himself of his 'problem' wife. The brunet didn't speak until he was sure he had found the right words. He could never forgive himself if he caused offense to the man, in the same way he could never live it down if Heather found out. The tiny girl could certainly pack a punch when it meant a lot to her, so Harry decided to go with the simplest reply he could conjure up.

"You're right. Maybe we should both try to move on." he replied, sighing slightly as he stood to his full height. The blond tilted his head to look straight up at him, the light blue orbs looking rather watery indeed. To that, Harry just gave a vague smile, and half-helped the other man up. Their tight grips on each other lasted a few seconds, before they broke away and began to walk in unison back out of the cemetery. It was almost as if a link had been established.

* * *

Reviews are lovely. Hinthint.

OS


	8. Confusion

So nobody gets confused, this chapter takes place a few months later. I didn't really think you would want to sit through another 7 chapters of daily life. That would have been very boring, both to read AND to write.

Anyway, enjoy. Can you spot the cameos? Hah.

* * *

Harry could not pinpoint the exact moment when his feelings for James had become more intimate. The younger man had slowly but surely become a remaining member of the household, and a great friend for Heather. Their life was becoming almost perfect, with the blond only suffering from a few of his 'attacks' over a course of five months. They had started to become less frequent now that Harry had started his regime of staying with the other until he fell asleep. It had never really dawned on the brunet just how much he enjoyed the other man's company.

All the time they had been setting up the decorations for Heather's birthday party, Harry had found himself watching the other go about his work. Once or twice, their gazes had met and the brunet had felt himself getting a little too embarassed. It was the same feeling he got whenever he had been around beautiful woman back in his teenage years, an odd tingling sensation which was impossible to describe. However, the man had tried to ignore it for a the few hours they had been alone, until the guests starting arriving at the small church hall.

The party got into full swing just moments after everyone had arrived, and he found that he only spent fleeting moments with the blond. Of course, James was being bombarded by questions from the Mason family, no mattered how closely related they were to the little girl celebrating her birthday. Harry was ready to intercept, but the younger man handled it far better than expected. That was the first time that he had ever seen the other talk and laugh so openly, and it was a little heart-warming. Before he had a chance to even ask how the other was doing, he found himself pulled into the children's party games by a little girl who was beyond excited. Heather had never been so happy around other people, but the way she was acting now was perfect. She truly was a, happy, little angel.

The games didn't last that long, as eventually the young woman from the church who was helping out with the proceedings ran out of ideas. Harry was no help, even though he tried to be, and a couple of the more obnoxious children were quick to point it out. The blonde woman, known only to the man as Claudia, had told them off a little forcefully before explaining that Harry could go and do what he wanted. He was, obviously, a little glad to be free of the screeching children, and wandered over to a bench on the far side of the hall. A quiet sigh left his lips as the party music's volume increase tenfold. It was obvious that he was getting a little too old too quick, as parties just weren't really enjoyable anymore.

Glancing up, he found that he had lost sight of the blond. He would have started to worry if the man hadn't promptly sat down right next to him. It was with a slight shift in position that Harry turned to look at the other, who almost immediately glanced straight back at him. The vague smile the other gave him caused the brunet to turn to face the direction of the children dancing to some sort of disco version of a children' programme theme. Harry was rather bemused by the way that James was making him feel, and it most definately wasn't normal. Perhaps it was just a phase, there hadn't been another adult in his life for a long time, other than distant relations.

"Heather looks happy."

James' statement made Harry move his gaze to his tiny dark haired daughter. She was holding hands with the church helper, doing a rather sweet little dance to a rather hyper track of music. The brunet couldn't help but smile weakly at how out of the place the tall blond woman looked, surrounded by children who only reached her waist at the tallest. Their two helpers, Claudia and a priest-in-training with glasses, whose name Harry had promptly forgotten, were really making this a party to remember for the children. He had no idea what he would have done without them, he would probably have had to settle with a birthday meal for Heather like they had every year.

"Yeah, I'm glad. Thank you for helping with the decorating, I couldn't have done it without you." Harry replied, glancing across at the banners that the younger, yet taller, man had tacked up on the walls. A small silence, a little more awkward than usual, passed between the two of them. The rather peppy, loud, music did nothing to fill it and the brunet found himself shifting nervously in his seat. Suddenly however, something sparked him to move. If Harry had been asked to say what it was, his reply would have been a simple 'I don't know'. A slight creak from the bench told him, a little late, that James had done exactly the same.

Their lips met in a rather odd fashion, both of them obviously a little unsure as of how to react. Harry was about to pull away in embarassment when a girlish squeal sounded from next to them. That forced the brunet to break away sooner than intended, to find himself gazing down at one of Heather's school friends. A tiny red-haired girl by the name of Colleen. His mouth opened, ready to blurt out some sort of excuse, but the girl scurried back into the crowd of partygoers. He just watched with a slight sense of failure as the girl scurried up to the priest on the other side of the room, clinging onto his shirt and pointing towards the two men on the bench. Little girls were always such dreadful gossips.

Once the man glanced over at them, Harry decided that he had made a dreadful mistake. He turned away from James in a swift motion, running his hands through his dark hair. They had both just got caught up in the excitement of the party atmosphere, that had meant nothing. Had it? The brunet found that he didn't even react when James walked away in the direction of the bathroom, and he just carried on staring down at the floor. His thoughts travelled into overdrive, a mix of memories and ideas that didn't make any particular sense. That had shocked him beyond belief, as he truly hadn't meant to make his feelings known so obviously. Nor had he wished for anyone else to see.

The gentle pitter-patter of tiny feet, replacing the music which had been changed for something a lot calmer, caught his attention. He glanced up slightly, half expecting to see Colleen staring right at him, but instead he found that it was his daughter. It was obvious that Colleen had gone and told her about the 'incident' from the look on the little girl's face. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had seen her looking so morose, and he feared the worse. He most certainly didn't want his little girl to be ashamed of him, or worse, scared.

"Daddy, do you love James?"

* * *

I love Claudia and Vincent, so sue me.

Please review.

OS


	9. Acceptance

I apologise for the cameos, but, I just like the thought that Claudia had been watching Harry & Heather for a long time. Vincent just sort of came in the package.

As for Colleen, yes, she is the girl mentioned in 'Letter..' . Well done to anyone who spotted that. Hah.

* * *

Needless to say, Harry was alarmed by the words which had left his daughters mouth. Her large, brown eyes were searching his face for an answer, and he knew that for a fact. Rather immaturely, the brunet found himself turning away and lowering his voice to what could only be described as a whisper. His thoughts were interuppted as the young church helper wandered past, handing Heather a small piece of candy before wandering off. However, Harry could still feel the woman's eyes on him a few seconds after she had moved from his line of vision. That was what spurred him to speak.

"Honey, you don't know what you're talking about." was his reply, having taken a little longer than expected to think of what to say. It was an impossible, and rather embaressing, question to try and answer for his daughter. No matter how he had felt in that breif second when James' lips had met his, it meant nothing in the concept of 'love'. Harry had loved his wife, Helen, and had known if from the first moment he had ever laid eyes on her. With the blond, their connection was different, even if the feeling was the same.

"Colle-"

"Go and play over there, Heather. Neither of you understand." He still didn't meet her gaze, all sort of situations running through his head. The worst involved his daughter bursting into tears, and shouting at him for forgetting her 'mother' so quickly. Even if his little girl was one of the most calm and placid he knew, she was not free of sudden surges of emotion.

"But-"

"Heather!"

That had sounded more forceful than intended. Harry could not remember the last time he had spoken to his daughter in such a tone. It was the way of speaking that the brunet had tried to lose as soon as _Cheryl_ had started to grow up. For years, he had never felt so irritated by his child, so why now? There was no time for him to apologise either, as his daughter ran off in the direction the tall, blond woman had left. Even though it was all in his mind, Harry was sure that the air around him had suddenly turned much colder.

James didn't return for a long time, or at least, more than the expected few minutes. That man had been the creator of Harry's problems over the few hours of the party, yet the brunet annoyingly found himself missing him. A few long seconds passed by, seemingly dragging on for an eternity. Neither his daughter nor the blond man returned to his side, leaving him feeling desperately alone in a room filled with people. Perhaps, ultimately, he had been the one who didn't understand. Something was drawing him to James, and it was beyond any sense or reasoning.

He took one lingering gaze across the room, spotting his daughter being talked at by the red-headed girl from before. A long, shaking sigh left his lips before he finally stood, passing by the priest on his way to the bathroom. There was a rather unnerving smile on the other man's thin lips, like he knew far more than he was letting on. His and Claudia's bond with their daughter sometimes felt a little good to be true, yet, he knew Heather thought of them as friends. Harry would not intercept that just because he was suddenly picking up on every look people were giving him. It was like being a teenager again, constantly wondering what others thought of you.

The door to the bathroom stuck a little as Harry pressed his hands against it. Another, slightly more heavy, push opened it with a dull creak. There was needed to look for James, as the younger man was stood next to the sinks. The blond was staring into the mirror, though he blatantly wasn't looking at himself anymore, now he was watching Harry's reflection. It took what seemed like ages, although in reality it was possibly about five seconds, before the man finally turned to face him. His expression was perfectly unreadable as he leant against the nearest sink, obviously waiting for Harry to say something first, just as the brunet was waiting for _him_ to speak.

"I just..."

Harry had broken the silence, but was not sure how to continue. That had been stupid, but the pressure had started to get to him. Was he meant to apologise for something that he had actually enjoyed? The kiss he had shared with the other man had been the first intimate contact he had recieved in years, as he had never managed to get close to someone after his wife passed away. Infact, he had only ever found one other person attractive in that long period of time. Lisa Garland, the nurse in red. Yet that had just been an attraction formed from fear, not from a more divine source. She had just wanted to help him, and he had felt the need to return the favor, even if he had failed in the end.

"Harry, I-"

The pause as James seemed to compose himself was almost painful. The older man wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he was starting to feel more and more awkward. To him, it felt as if something was definately going unsaid, and he just didn't wish to say it himself. None of this felt quite real, like he was in some permanent daze. Truthfully, it was beginning to seem like a very odd dream. The blond pushed him from this mindset all too roughly with his next statement.

"I think I love you."

There was no time to speak, nor was there any real need to. He found that all he could do was nod, in some sort of pathetic reply,as he was too worked-up to even say that he returned those feelings. Despite what he told himself, Harry had been waiting for the man to say that for far too long. The arms which wrapped around him didn't make him tense up, infact, he relaxed. For just a short while, the little argument he had had with Heather completely passed out of his mind, and so did any other adverse thoughts. It was going to be difficult, and he was sure James understood why, but Harry found that at that moment, he really did not care.

No one had made him feel that way in far too long.

* * *

.......Heh.

OS


	10. Worry

Short as heck. Sorry about that.

I finally know how this story is going to end.

Don't expect some sort of fairytale ending guys, this IS a Silent Hill fanfic.

* * *

This most certainly wasn't right. The two of them were still lamenting the loss of beautiful wives. A troubled frown reached his fingers as the blond took another lingering look in the mirror. It seemed there was something about the shining surface which held some significance to James, yet he didn't pester him for answers. Some things were best left in the dark, or sheltered away in your own memories.

Lisa Garland's death would never be mentioned to anyone. Nobody could understand exactly what had happened that day, not while his own thoughts on the matter were so confused. _He could have saved her._

A surprisingly gentle hand took his second later, fingers sliding between his. The feeling which passed down his spine was a strange one indeed, yet it was definately familiar. Back in his teenage years, one look from his soon-to-be wife had brought upon the same reaction. This was all too oddly perfect, after what both men had lived through.

Such badly dealt hands in life should never have lead to something which felt so blissfully right.

"Harry, maybe you should go and talk to Heather.."

That made the pleasure dissolve away, a steady pang replacing the empty space it left behind. His little encounter with James had almost made him forget of the way he had spoken to his daughter. Of course, that made him feel like a pretty pathetic father. His daughter had been the only important thing in his life until the party had started, and his thoughts had already started to drift away from her.

"Yes, I should.." was Harry's reply, his voice fading away as he once again met the younger man's gaze. There was something just so fascinating about the pools of grey which looked down upon him, and the brunet found that an indeterminate amount of time passed. A slight pinch of one of his curled up fingers brought Harry back to earth. His bemused expression caused a chuckle to escape the blond's lips.

The way they laugh can tell you a lot about a person, that is for sure. However, James' display of amusement turned strangely sour as coughs began to rack the taller man's body. At first Harry just pulled his hand away from the other to pat at his back, avoiding the tightness of the suddenly clammy hand, but it soon stopped in it tracks. When the coughing stopped, the brunet realized there was something very wrong.

Nobody turned that pale from choking lightly in their excitement. Infact, one would have expected the person's face to turn darker from the embarassed blush which spread across their features. No such luck, as James' hand moved to push back a rogue strand of hair, before settling on his temple. His skin had developed an almost impossible hue, and Harry was definately worried.

Heather could wait just a few minutes. At least she was with friends. If this had been anyone else, perhaps the brunet would have searched for someone else to take the burden of checking the person's health. However, this man had become part of the family, in more ways than one.

"James, are you alright?"

The blond seemed to recoil from the question, turning away from the older man. It was the same way in which his daughter would try to avoid answering something which required an answer, pretending not to hear it. As a reflex, Harry's hand moved to tease the material of James' jacket, leaning in to repeat himself. Sometimes he treated the man like a child without meaning to, and it was a little bit of an embarassment. He found that the years spent living with Heather had severely changed his patterns of thought, perhaps not for the best.

"Go and talk to Heather."

It was a rather dismissive order, and Harry found himself a little taken aback. The man had never seemed forceful before, far from it. The brunet's first impression of James had been one of a rather quiet, if sometimes a little surly, young man. Even if this was against the character that the brunet had touched upon, he couldn't know what was under the surface. Silent Hill did strange things to your inner workings. Every now and again, Harry would find himself sinking into unwanted bouts of depression or would even suffer from terrible minutes of rage.

If his emotions were so interchangable, then he decided it was likely that James' were too. At least that would give him some sort of confidence that the other was only suffering from some sort of slight illness. Surely the other would have stated something if he was plagued by anything more than a light cold.

With that, Harry moved to the door. His hand lingered on the metal handle for a few seconds, as if he was waiting for James to say something more. Infact, the brunet just wanted his ideas on the matter confirmed. Despite needing to apologize to his young daughter, his thoughts were still all on the blond.

He looked so desperately weak, like someone who had only a little while left to live.

That was soon dismissed as his mind forming up the worst scenarios in his head.

James was perfectly healthy. Physically, at least.

* * *

You get an imaginary sticker if you can guess what is wrong with James.

OS.


	11. Home

Hi guys! I'm off hiatus, FOR NOW. The thing is, I've just had so much to do, and still do.

Damn conventions. I'm in the middle of making a James cosplay for myself and a Maria one for my friend...no Harry sadly.

NOW. Enough of my crappy personal life, and onto the fanfic.

Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Of course, keeping things from someone is never enjoyable. Especially when that someone is your own daughter, who you know already has an inkling as to what is truly going on. However, Harry stood his ground, and told Heather nothing. Even when the little girl burst into the room, chattering about some homework that James had helped her do, or the toy that the blond had fixed for her, the older man said nothing. It was not intentionally obvious, but keeping this a secret was all because he himself was scared.

Nobody had ever told him that something so strange would happen to him in such a short space of time. For Harry, it only felt like months since his wife had passed away, and he assumed it was the same for James. So why, if they were in such deep states of mourning, did the two men find such comfort and solace in each other? All in all, it just wasn't right, even if the blond kept trying to tell him it was. The older man was thoroughly stressed, for no real reason, and he knew how pathetic it was.

James' sudden sickness was just making things worse.

Part of him was deathly worried for his companion, and had made him rush around the nearby shops and pharmacies for some sort of cure, while the other part was just confused. Even though it had been weeks since the blond had first fallen ill, neither of them had brought up the idea of travelling to a hospital. Both of them had tried to carry on with life as normal, even though the younger man would often find himself incapable of standing. This was all becoming oddly reminiscent of the last few months that Harry had spent with his wife, but the brunet refused to look upon it like that.

The blond just had a bad cold and would get better soon enough. At least, that was what he kept telling Heather when she ran crying to him, after finding James passed out on the couch. There was no point worrying a child in such a way, when the man wasn't even suffering from some sort of terminal illness. Surely there would have been some forewarning, a fever, something, to bring upon such poor health in the blond.

"Harry?"

His pen skidded across the paper, leaving a snail-like trail of black ink right across the paragraph he had been writing. Usually he would have been angry, but the numb feeling rising in his chest did not let him voice that. Harry found that he could hardly ever get irritated at the blond man, even if an argument should have arisen. If the two of them weren't in such an odd entanglement, he would have put that down to the man being frail, but that most definately wasn't the case.

No matter what his mind tried to tell him, he was completely infatuated with James Sunderland.

Instead of giving any sort of reply, Harry just let a long sigh travel from his lips. He shifted across in his seat without a second thought, leaving enough room for the blond to perch there if that is what he wished. Unsurprisingly, that is exactly what the other did, and a hand moved to take the brunet's in its own. The older man did not turn to look at his younger counterpart, as the hand clasping onto his own told him enough. It was clammy, but not in the average way. There was what could only be described as a freezing cold sheen of sweat over the skin, yet Harry did not retract his hand. When people were sick, they needed comfort and affection, and the brunet was internally enjoying just how close they were.

"Are you okay? We're worried about you."

The younger man was referring to both Heather and himself, that was obvious. There was nobody else alive who cared for him in such an absolute way. Although, the fact they were worried about him was bemusing. The author had only been in the room for a few hours a day at most, and had emerged when his daughter and companion had made him some rather messy cupcakes. The mere memory of the two of them practically covered in flour and melted chocolate finally brought a well needed smile to his tired lips. Yes, he was perfectly fine.

"Did you take your medicine?" he questioned, raising his voice from nothingness for the first time that day. A light chuckle that sounded when he finally set his pen down caused him to turn his head, and meet James' amused gaze. It was beyond him what the other man had found funny, yet at least there was something which looked healthy about the other. His smile. Despite having such a pale, almost grey face, the curvature of his lips drew Harry's eyes away. That was almost like some sort of natural decoy.

"You sound just like my mother." The mention of a family member caught Harry's interest, and the jovial insult just passed him by. However, the sudden disappearance of the blond's smile told him not to pursue this lead. Harry knew the look of someone who had lost a parent or spouse, and that was the exact same glazed stare that passed across the younger man's pale face. "But yes, I did."

The lurching motion which had taken over his stomach at the first glimpse of the younger man's pained expression slowly disintegrated. They just watched each other for a few moments, the time passing by in shaking seconds as they just inspected each other's movements. It was a strange feeling indeed, to be able to do such a thing without that familiar awkwardness, yet neither of them wished to complain. Even if he tried to deny it, this was exactly how Harry wanted life to continue.

A couple of painful, barking, coughs sounding from next to him brought the man back down to earth. James suddenly looked very flushed, and the older man found himself at a loss for the reasoning. Obviously the blonde was sick, but he had been fine until a few seconds previously. He was about to start panicking about the other, when he found his hand being removed from the other's thigh. It was Harry's time to turn red as he realized that his body had been moving on its own. His rushed apologizes were batted away by a once again grey-skinned James, who left the room to tend to another one of Heather's broken dolls.

This just left Harry to sink into his rather more embarassed thoughts once again, and the rest of the day passed in a blur.

That is, until the two men had put the very tired Heather to bed.

* * *

.....Please review, my lovelies.

OS.  
x


	12. Pleasure

I'm guessing this is the sort of thing all the devout James/Harry fans were looking for. Don't worry however, this isn't going to turn into one of those disturbing yaoi-fics which haunt my dreams. These two are actually in love, for one, maybe..

Secondly, this IS a Silent Hill fanfiction. That's all I have to say on the matter.

Also, on a seperate note, I just love what feelings the Silent Hill soundtrack envokes. I probably wouldn't have been able to write this fanfiction without Silent Hill Origins and 2 music blasting into my ears.

* * *

As with most children, Heather had been wide awake one second and fast asleep the next. Harry had built himself up to read one of the incredibly long bedtime stories that the dark-haired girl loved so much, only to be faced with her light snuffling. He shook his head lightly at the sight, a warm smile spreading across his features. Children really were precious things, and the brunet understood that more than anyone. Even if this little girl wasn't truly his Cheryl, he loved her like she really was the girl he and his wife had found at the side of the road. No matter what, that tiny sleeping form was his _only_ daughter.

It was far later than expected, but the two men had sat up with the little girl until she had fallen asleep in James' arms. Until the blond had appeared on the scene, Heather would let sleep succomb her far earlier, and would still be half awake when her father took her to bed. Now, it seemed that the girl was determined to stay awake until the two men felt drowsy themselves, but she never achieved her quest. It was endearing, to say the least.

"Harry, can I talk to you?"

The voice from the doorway caused Harry to instinctively leave his daughter's side, his head moving in a nodding motion. After settling the girl down into bed, the blond had dissapeared for an indeterminate amount of time while the brunet had searched for a book. The man's sudden appearance in the doorway had made Harry jump slightly in his seat, but he did not make that apparent as he slipped out of the room to join him. There was nothing to fear about James, at least, not anymore.

"What is it?"

His question was forced into a mumble,as lips pressed roughly against his own. Of course, his first reaction was to try and pull away, but strong arms kept him in place. Eventually, as soon as his mind and body stopped resisting, the man partly returned the kiss. A light whimper and the sound of rustling bedding behind them caused the brunet to break away, before he noted that Heather was just turning in her sleep. Doing something like that in plain sight of his young daughter most certainly would never be on his agenda. That had mentally knocked him sideways.

"J-James, what are you-?"

All he received was a smile in response, as hands grabbed onto his hips, pulling him away from the open door. The two of them were now stood in the center of the main room, the colors of their faces contrasting in an almost comical way. James' skin was still it's sickly grey color, while the older man's face had turned a deep shade of red. In an attempt to hide it, Harry had turned to gaze down at the floor, his ears burning like he was talking to his high school crush.

Neither of them could have accounted for exactly what happened next. All that Harry remembered of the few minutes before they ended up in the bedroom, were blurred movements and a steady burning sensation passing across his cheeks. The blond did not speak through the whole of their journey, and just steadily stripped the older man of his clothing before finally setting him down on the bed. At least James had an option of saying how he felt, as Harry himself was completely tongue-tied. It had been countless years since the man had found himself in such a situation, and he was at a loss of what to do.

The odd, almost unearthly look which flickered across the blond's eyes just added to his confusion. It was only there for a few seconds at most, and it was barely visible in the dark room, yet Harry caught it. He couldn't help but shift uncomfortably on the bed as his mind tried to comprehend just what that glance had meant. However, as the blond finally made his way onto the mattress, the older man couldn't help but put it down to lust. The closing gap between the two of them was making his mind go blank, and the hairs on his skin stand on end.

"When I said I loved you, I promise I meant it." was all that the younger man had to say, as he moved to straddle the other. Harry, without a second thought, tried to turn over as he had no idea how to react. So many years without any sort of sexual encounter, no matter how trivial, had left him almost afraid of what was to happen next. Even if this man did love him, and the brunet returned the feeling, nothing could brace him for how this was going to pan out. Although he denied it, part of him just didn't trust people fully anymore.

"You're not well, we can't."

It took a lot of effort just to mumble that, as Harry's body had slowly begun to seize up. Whether it was from fear, nerves, or embarassment was not even clear to him, but he wanted to get away from the other. At least, that is what he felt his mind should have been telling him to do. Perhaps it was the father in him that was trying to pull him away, trying to force him to return to his daughter's side as she slumbered. However, no matter what excuses he churned out, he could not longer ignore the fact that his body was yearning for some sort of contact.

"Please,just don't make me stop."

Along with the blond man's reply came fingers that trailed the bare skin of Harry's torso. James had rid the older man of his shirt during the scramble in the main room, while he himself was fully dressed. Even these light, skimming, touches were enough to make Harry squirm underneath the other, before he finally managed to steady himself. The blank feeling in his head was slowly disappearing, yet it was replaced with a rather more numb sensation. He couldn't even remember the last time he had felt so odd, yet so pleased with what was going on.

Although he could try to push the man away, and rush out of the room, the brunet's mind was now forcing him to stay put.

It was obvious that neither of the men knew what they were really doing. The whole scenario suddenly turned into a tussle of shedding clothes and hands moving across every segment of their exposed bodies. Even as the street lights just outside the window flickered hurriedly into a deep amber, they did not stop, nor were they distracted. Harry found himself in some sort of determined daze, blocking everything else out other than the man who was positioned just above him. The brunet had thrown away all thoughts of this being wrong a long time ago, and was now just relishing the moment.

Of course it hurt, both emotionally and physically, but Harry soon found a way of ignoring that. The only thing that mattered was the pleasure, nothing else.

Perhaps he would have been better to watch James' expression slowly change, instead of letting himself get carried away by the moment.

* * *

I can't write smut, so this is probably the best you are going to get.

I'm sorry, yaoi fans. Hah.

OS.  
x


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